“Evander!” I snap at him.
“Oh, please,” he responds. “I’m not an idiot.”
The door shuts, and I’m alone with Robin, back in this ridiculous room where I last told him we can’t be together.
Never again.
“Birdie?”
He looks up at me, that hard gray glass ready to shatter with one wrong word.
So I step up to him, slip my arms around him, and kiss him. And kiss him. And kiss him.
I can’t speak. Maybe I’ll never find the words to say.
‘I adore you.’
‘I want you.’
‘I’m not giving up on us.’
I can only hope this kiss says it all.
Chapter twenty-six
Marco: Kin
It’s the day after the battle, and everything aches. I’ve given the men the day off training for the obvious reason that I can barely move at all. I stink of every ointment Evander could find to slather me in, and my thousands of cuts and scrapes are wrapped up tight. But it’s my muscles that hurt the worst, so stiff and bruised that I want to shout with every movement.
Robin’s just as injured as I am, and I hate the thought of him fighting for bench space at the breakfast table, trying to find some hot water to bathe his wounds while the other men stand around talking, gawping. He must be exhausted, mentally as well as physically. At least he has Evander there.
But I’m going over too. As soon as I can gather the strength. I couldn’t stay away from him if I wanted to. And I don’t anymore. I can’t. I fought it for so long, but we’re stronger together. I see that now. It was that connection, that attraction, that obsession, that led me to him, that got him down by my side, where he saved my life.
Maria’s twice as attentive as usual this morning, which is a lot. She barely even lets me lift my own teacup. She’s begging to rewrap my injuries, but it’s wholly unnecessary. I guess it’s all she can do. She’s trying to protect me and what we have, this little island of calm in this vile city.
I think sometimes she feels guilty that Deathball is what I have to do to take care of us. But I’d be doing it either way, so I wish she’d relax a little.
“Just have some juice,” she insists.
“You have some juice.”
She’s already pouring it, for me, not her. “I’ve heard the acid helps the muscles knit.”
“Sounds like bullshit to me.”
“Well, it’s hardly going to hurt, is it?”
The door sounds, and her eyes snap up. “Are we expecting someone?”
“Not this morning.” And my heart’s slamming against my ribs. Evander, come to tell me Robin took a turn in the night? That he’s worse than he looked? That he’s dead?
Or the Emperor. Surely he can’t want me already. He must know how injured I am. I can’t face that.
But the sound of Maria’s quiet footsteps has dissipated as she moves through the villa, ready, no doubt, to try to turn whoever it is away with her best scowl.
Yet it’s only a few moments before her soft, curious, “Marco?”
“Hmm?”
